


When I'm a Supermodel

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstage at an Acne Studios fashion show, Wonwoo has a little trouble making things fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm a Supermodel

**Author's Note:**

> Three things: 1) if you follow my [Tumblr](http://coupsd.tumblr.com/), you'd know that I left a hint about my next fic—this isn't the fic haha I kind of binge-wrote most of this last night and finished it as soon as I woke up because I have to go to school soon; 2) model AU has been something I've always wanted, which I've also mentioned a lot of on my Tumblr because Meanie are so pretty and I love talking about clothes, so I finally just sat down and wrote it; 3) this is too long for Tumblr but shorter than anything else I've written so I apologise for the length. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

A fucking mustard yellow donkey [coat](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/outerwear/markus-mustard-yellow.html) on Kim Mingyu… and navy [shorts](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/shorts/roy-twill-navy.html), what the fuck were they thinking. Wonwoo always thought Mingyu looked best in brogues and slim-fitted trousers that tapered just before his ankle—Paul Smith shit that showed off his height and how pretty his ankles are, making him look like the co-worker everyone wanted a piece of—but here he is, looking for Wonwoo backstage, sharp teeth all bared in a grin as he shrugs off the horribly mismatched coat and hands it to a waiting volunteer dresser, who helps him out of the rest of his clothes.

Mingyu meets Wonwoo’s eyes just as the dresser is putting a robe on his shoulders. He ties it closed with an impossibly bigger grin, not paying her any mind as she goes off to help undress another model.

“Wonwoo,” his makeup artist Seulgi scolds him, dabbing a bit of nude shimmery eyeshadow on his lids—or would, if he weren’t constantly following Mingyu with his eyes, “close your fucking eyes.”

“Sorry,” he has to apologise. He closes his eyes and is surprised it’s all over within a few seconds, but she makes him close his eyes again so she can line the upper lash line, then makes him look up as she does the same to the lower lash line.

Seulgi dabs him afterwards with tissue, clicking her tongue at the beads of sweat on his temple. “Can’t you do something about that?” she asks, then calls for a fan, or something stiff, which Wonwoo bites his tongue at. When she doesn’t get one, she settles for fanning him with her hands, wrists making sounds as she continues to get him to stop sweating.

At the corner of his eye, Mingyu is lounging on one of the couches, his next scheduled outfit two collections after Wonwoo’s. He leans his head back, the light catching the sheen of sweat that covers his neck, and Wonwoo has to swallow, has to reach for his bottle of water. 

“Pay attention,” she scolds him again, calling him back to her. She gestures at her lips, so Wonwoo puts down the water bottle and parts his lips slightly so she can dab tint on them with light presses of the pad of her pinky. “Why are your lips so pale today?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again. “Cold out.” And he smoked a little bit before going inside, and that’s always made his mouth look a little grossly purple, but it’s better than having it blue and dead, which was how it looked before he decided to bring out his cigarettes to warm up his lips.

“Okay, you’re done.” She runs her hands through his hair one last time then sets the messy thing with spray before handing him to a waiting volunteer to get dressed. “Smudge your eyes,” she warns him, “and you’ll fucking pay.”

The volunteer brings him to the dressing area, where Mingyu’s still seated on the damn couch, then gets him out of his robe and into a plain white shirt and printed knit [leggings](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/trousers/jasem-numbers-bright-multi.html). Mingyu watches him with his tongue peeking out from between his lips, which turns into him licking his lips outright as Wonwoo’s shimmying into the leggings, and he points out, “Nice leggings, hyung.”

Wonwoo snorts. “Thanks,” he replies. They _are_ nice, though—the print was a good accent point for the navy wool [ coat](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/outerwear/mads-navy.html) the volunteer puts on him. The coat is entirely leather at the back and shoulders, and he has to button it shut, the buttons big and his fingers slim yet clumsy.

Mingyu waves off the volunteer then proceeds to button Wonwoo’s coat for him, starting from the bottom and working his way upwards.

“You’re taking your fucking time,” Wonwoo quips. Mingyu lets out a laugh, teeth glaringly white and tongue a nice pink.

“Hi,” is what Mingyu says when he’s reached the top button, his eyes flickering to Wonwoo’s lips. Fuck their height difference—Mingyu’s lips should be ghosting over his, not on the tip of Wonwoo’s nose and cupid’s bow, but once Wonwoo puts on his [shoes](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/shoes/hover-low-black.html), they’re perfectly matched. Mingyu adds, “Your mouth looks nice today.”

“Thank Seulgi,” and Wonwoo will do just that. Later. Maybe even a kiss on her plump cheek.

Mingyu bites his lip, and Wonwoo swears the fucking kid knows how to draw attention to his mouth, knows how to pout just so when they have to put lipstick on so his mouth’s a tad darker to contrast his clothes. “Maybe I will,” he teases.

The director finds Wonwoo then drags him off before he could at least reply with a ‘Fuck you’, so Wonwoo’s left waiting for his turn to walk, hoping the song would change before it’s his turn, but it doesn’t. He schools his face to blankness before walking out, shoving his hands into the oversized pockets as he does.

When he comes back, Mingyu’s quick to pull him away, snatching him before any of the volunteers have a chance to undress him, hangers in hand. “Hey—”

“Your clothes are safe with me,” Mingyu shushes him, “I swear.”

“Nothing’s safe with you, Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo grouses. Mingyu just laughs and leads him away to one of the larger toilets, the one that still smells fragrant and of soap, and pushes Wonwoo into a cubicle. “Do you _know_ how expensive this is?” Wonwoo has to ask after he catches his balance and Mingyu’s locked the door behind them.

Mingyu shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“You should.”

Mingyu pulls him in for a kiss by his hair, tugging on it so sharply Wonwoo’s afraid strands of hair will come off with Mingyu’s fingers, then pushes Wonwoo so his back is against the wall. “I don’t care,” Mingyu repeats, but he unbuttons Wonwoo’s coat with nimble fingers, making sure he doesn’t rip them out in his hurry to get Wonwoo’s clothes off. The coat is left hanging on top of the door, far away from either the floor or the toilet, at least. Mingyu’s just in his bathrobe, hard beneath his boxers. His boner nudges at Wonwoo’s hip, who pushes Mingyu away, hard enough for Mingyu to land on his back against the opposite wall with a heavy thud.

“Fucking—” The knit leggings feel so fucking weird when Wonwoo tries to peel them off, so he settles for keeping them pooled at his ankles then takes off his shoes so he’s once again a bit shorter than Mingyu, and he doesn’t appreciate how much more Mingyu towers over him when he presses his body close against Wonwoo’s.

“Off,” Mingyu says. “I want all of it off.”

“Fucking _brat_ ,” Wonwoo grumbles, but he kicks off his leggings then hooks them too on the door, followed by his shirt, leaving him in nothing but black boxer briefs and black socks.

“All of it, hyung,” Mingyu whines, making Wonwoo glare at him as he takes off his socks and underwear, leaving them on the floor and him bare and hard and flush against the cubicle wall.

“Do you even have lube somewhere there?” Wonwoo asks, frowning when Mingyu digs out three packets of lube and a condom wrapper from his own pair of boxer briefs. “You’re fucking gross.”

“Ah, don’t complain, hyung,” says Mingyu, pouting when he puts the cover down on the toilet seat then sets the packets on it. “At least I remembered this time.”

“Don’t fucking start,” Wonwoo warns, his head already beginning to hurt from dealing with the kid, who’s now slipping out of his boxer briefs so his boner is free and glaringly red. (Last time, Mingyu had to rim him to near death, long enough that Wonwoo managed to get to orgasm from it and they were both being called back for the next line, so Mingyu had to tuck his boner in his briefs and walk down the stage with it—at least it was streetwear and Mingyu was wearing joggers, but Wonwoo watches him from backstage with a sated smile on his face then sucks him off in one of the empty rooms where they keep the finger food.) Wonwoo turns on his back and wiggles his hips, encouraging Mingyu to finger him and finger him quickly.

But Mingyu, of course, turns him back around and kisses him hard, their teeth clashing. Mingyu gets slobbery when he’s excited, covers Wonwoo’s entire mouth with his, so it takes a while for Wonwoo to guide him with his mouth, slowing down the pacing until they establish a rhythm. Their lips make small, wet, smacking noises when they part. Wonwoo tugs at Mingyu’s bottom lip with his teeth, making Mingyu moan against his mouth and reach for Wonwoo’s hair. Mingyu grinds his hips on Wonwoo; their cocks brush against each others, leaving them both gasping.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls as he grinds up into Mingyu, both hands clenching Mingyu’s ass. “Just fuck me already, Kim Mingyu.”

“We still have time, hyung,” Mingyu teases. He ducks his head down to latch his mouth on Wonwoo’s neck, sucking hard enough that Wonwoo’s head falls back against the wall, his head hurting even more from the bump.

Wonwoo lets out a moan, stifling it by biting on his bottom lip, and Mingyu grins against his neck for a split second before going back to sucking, making Wonwoo wrap a leg around Mingyu’s waist to draw him closer, arms hooking themselves around Mingyu’s shoulders.

“Hyung, you’re such a slut.”

“We have _ten_ fucking minutes”—Wonwoo is this close to throwing the lube packets at Mingyu’s face—“so if you’re not going to fucking finger me, I’m going to do it myself,” he warns.

“I… kinda wanna see you do that,” Mingyu says slowly, licking his lips. He reaches for Wonwoo’s hand then one of the packets of lube and tears it open with his teeth, drizzling out the contents into Wonwoo’s fingers. “Go do it, hyung. I want to see you all slutty.”

Wonwoo brings his hand underneath his raised thigh, the one wrapped around Mingyu’s waist, and circles a lube-slicked finger on his entrance. “You’re a spoiled little shit, Kim Mingyu,” he grouses just before pushing his finger in, after watching Mingyu’s eyes light up and expression turn into something closer to an expectant puppy’s. “Fucking—ah—whiny-ass… brat…” His eyes slip shut.

Mingyu pouts again, it being palpable in his voice when he says, “You’re so mean.”Wonwoo could feel Mingyu’s cock twitch, how hot it is, and lets out a bark of laughter as he pushes his finger in and out.

“ _You’re_ the slut, Mingyu-ya,” Wonwoo tells him, then mouths, “Fuck,” to himself as he begins to chase his finger, grinding down on it.

“Aish, you’re taking so long,” Mingyu complains, “and you said we only have ten minutes.”

“Why don’t I just finger myself until I come and leave you here?” Wonwoo suggests lightly just as he introduces a second finger, groaning from the stretch. Fuck, it’s been ages since they’ve done a show together. Mingyu lets out a soft whine and grinds against Wonwoo, searching for friction while Wonwoo crooks his fingers inside himself, fucking himself as hard and as fast as his wrist and position allowed. Wonwoo’s fingers brush against his prostrate and he shudders.

“Fuck this,” Mingyu growls, pulling Wonwoo’s hand out of the way and manoeuvring Wonwoo so he’s facing the wall and Wonwoo has to reach out his hands to steady himself. There’s the crinkling sound of the condom wrapper being opened then the wet, slick sounds of Mingyu stroking himself with lube. “Fuck you, hyung, you keep making me fucking _wait_ —” He positions himself, hand firm on Wonwoo’s hip, then thrusts into him, thrusting all the air out of Wonwoo.

“You _brat_ ,” Wonwoo hisses, “when will you learn to wait?” It fucking burns—the dumb fucker didn’t use enough lube—and the stretch is too much.

“I’m always waiting for you,” Mingyu lets out with a grit of his teeth. He fucks Wonwoo so hard he’s starting to see stars, and Mingyu reaches in front of him for Wonwoo’s dick, using his thumb to spread the beading precome around the head.

Wonwoo’s knees go weak, but his arms are still holding him upright. “If I can’t fucking walk later because of you…”

“Will you punish me, hyung?” Mingyu sounds so fucking _eager_ , and it makes him thrust into Wonwoo even harder, the sound of their hips slapping against each other’s becoming more obscene with every thrust. “Will you make me feel bad about it?” The next thing Mingyu says has him laughing: “Will you use your belt on me?”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo grouses, “you’re so fucking noisy.”

“But I want hyung to—ah—punish me”—Mingyu thrusts into Wonwoo more quickly, more erratic, hips snapping up instead of rolling smoothly into Wonwoo, both of his hands now gripping onto Wonwoo beneath—“I want hyung to tie me up to the bed and suck my cock and— _fuck_ —never make me come. I—ah—want hyung to make me beg for it…”

“You’re a fucking dirty bastard, Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo gripes, but he’s so _hard_ and the thought of tying up Kim Mingyu to the bed, legs spread and hole bared for him and cock so eager and red and straining, has him reaching for himself, playing with his balls and stroking his cock. “Is that what you wanted all along?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mingyu exhales, mouth latching onto Wonwoo’s shoulder with a cry. “I want hyung to wreck me _so bad—_ fuck—I want hyung to—ah—spank me—”

“ _God_ ,” Wonwoo breathes, eyes slipping shut again as he touches himself. “Tell me everything, Mingyu-ya.”

“Fucking _shit_ —I want hyung to spank me so hard my ass—ah—gets _so_ red and I fucking come just from it— _fuck_ —” Mingyu breaks down into a whimper, but he manages to pick himself up again, manages to say, “I want hyung to sit on my face,” right in Wonwoo’s ear, breath hot and voice low and _desperate_.

Jesus Christ. What a filthy kid. Wonwoo’s so ready to come, loves how high-pitched Mingyu can get when he’s breaking down like that above him. He pushes his ass back to grind against Mingyu.

“…Want… hyung… to… _fucking_ _fuck_ me _so_ hard,” Mingyu continues, and Wonwoo was afraid the kid won’t stop, has all these fucking kinky fantasies of being left open for days just for him, always so eager to come, but Mingyu bites down on Wonwoo’s shoulder with a cry, shaking as his orgasm hits him and that’s what takes Wonwoo over the edge, too.

Wonwoo comes so hard he ends up saying Mingyu’s name as his come stains the cubicle wall, slowly dripping down unto the floor, and he digs his heels into the floor to steady himself instead of falling to his knees. Mingyu rides out his behind him, his nails digging into Wonwoo’s hips, definitely leaving crescent-shaped indentations as his thrusts come to a stuttering stop. He keeps fucking whimpering against Wonwoo’s skin, saying ‘hyung’ over and over again.

“Get off me,” Wonwoo says. Two minutes. He doesn’t think he has time to put on the whole outfit, even with Mingyu’s help—those fucking leggings took forever to put on. Mingyu makes a sad noise that tugs at Wonwoo, but holy shit, if they don’t show up soon… “I’m serious, kid, put on your fucking underwear,” Wonwoo has to tell him as he puts on his socks and shoes then his boxer briefs, ignoring the come on the side of the wall in favour of washing his hands before he handles the clothes.

The hickey on his neck is huge and tacky and red, and when Mingyu comes out of the cubicle with the tied up condom, tossing it in the trash bin, he sees it and looks immensely satisfied. Wonwoo wants to kick him, turning his head around when Mingyu leans up to him for a kiss so all Mingyu can reach is his cheek, so he settles for that.

“Eh, hyung, you’re such a tease,” Mingyu whines.

“Shut up, I have to wear so much concealer now,” Wonwoo grumbles, gathering up his clothes and draping them over his arm. He extends his free hand out for Mingyu, which the damn kid takes so happily, lacing their fingers together as they walk out of the room and back to the chaos. A volunteer rushes to Wonwoo to get the clothes, sighing in relief once she sees it hasn’t been stained, and barely pays attention to Wonwoo after that. No one else does.

Mingyu gets called by his makeup artist, and he laughs when Wonwoo pushes him off after quickly placing a kiss on Wonwoo’s cheek.

Seulgi calls for Wonwoo, too, and is fucking pissed when she sees him, glaring at him with crossed arms.

“I didn’t smudge my eyes,” Wonwoo says in defence. He takes a long swig out of the nearby water bottle, downing most of it in one gulp. “I made sure.”

“Sure you did,” Seulgi snaps. She reaches for the concealer, but stops and looks him over, grabbing his face between her hand and moving his neck left and right. A volunteer with a clipboard passes by, and she grabs her by the sleeve. “Hey, what’s Wonwoo wearing next?” she asks the volunteer. “A fucking [_parka_](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/outerwear/new-montreal-navy.html)?” Nonetheless, she thanks the volunteer and apologises for being so rude, flashing her a wide smile that shows off her dimples.

“Why did you ask?” Wonwoo asks once the volunteer’s run off.

“You’re fucking lucky you’re wearing something so boring,” Seulgi says. She reaches for the concealer but doesn’t apply it on Wonwoo’s neck—she applies it on the corners of his mouth where it’s bruised and red, shaping his lips then blending it all with a brush. Some concealer goes on the corners of Wonwoo’s nose, too, and on the pimple on his temple near his hairline. “Your lips look so much better like that…” She clicks her tongue.

“Mingyu says thanks,” Wonwoo says, making Seulgi laugh and slap his bare shoulder.

“Yeah? Maybe he needs to give everybody else a kiss. Fucking seriously, they’re so _pink_ —Okay, I’m just going to spray your hair and you’re good to go.”

Seulgi is sending him out on the runway with a hickey and sexed up hair. When he sees what Mingyu’s wearing, a dusty pink [coat](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/outerwear/garret-multi-melange.html) that sits so fucking nicely on his tanned skin over a white shirt and the same coloured [trousers](http://www.acnestudios.com/shop/men/outerwear/garret-multi-melange.html) that taper right at his ankles, he wants to kick him again; Mingyu looks fucking pristine, with added height because they gave him platform shoes, and at this point, Mingyu has to look _down_ when he finds Wonwoo, grinning at him as they find their places in the line.

The show finishes off, and Wonwoo finds Seulgi again just as she’s closing up her makeup box. He gives her a kiss on the cheek that she scowls at. She bitches about how much effort she has to do for him, compared to other male models, then pushes him away to a waiting volunteer, who leaves him in his boxers again.

Mingyu catches him just as he’s leaving, says, “Hyung,” with the hugest, fucking shyest smile on his face, and if Wonwoo were a woman and knew nothing, he’d coo at how sweet he looks. “Are you going home?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies.

“Ah, I was just… gonna ask you if we could, uhm, get some coffee…”

Wonwoo swears Mingyu is a different person, all swaggering confidence gone once he’s in his own clothes, just a sweater and ripped jeans and fucking sneakers. “It’s too late for coffee,” he tells Mingyu, whose face falls at that. “But we can get some food?” He’s spoiling the damn kid, he thinks, as he watches Mingyu break out into a smile again. “I want some noodles.”

“Sure thing, hyung! Just let me get my bag.” Mingyu races back inside then comes out slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe now you’ll give me your number?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Wonwoo warns, but he holds his hand out for Mingyu’s phone anyway.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It went an unexpected turn. :----) But now I /really/ need a porn break. Like, for real.


End file.
